A Different Sort Of Pretend
by MorbidAesthetic
Summary: Emil knows about his brother's mental health problems. People think that he doesn't. But he is not stupid. It would be hard to miss. The Icelander could see the deterioration, the slow decadence of Lukas' mind. He sometimes wished that he would miss it just so he could pretend to himself that his brother would be okay. (Oneshot, implied DenNor)


**Author's Note:** So I've been messing around with the idea of mentally ill!Norway. It started with my story Underwater and just escalated from there. Sorry. This is also posted on AO3 and Wattpad.

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Emil knows about his brother's mental health problems. People think that he doesn't see it, or doesn't bother to wonder about the strange habits Lukas had picked up over the years.

But he is not stupid. It would be hard to miss. The Icelander could see the deterioration, the slow decadence of Lukas' mind. He sometimes wished that he would miss it just so he could pretend to himself that his brother would be okay.

Half of the time Lukas would stare out the window, especially if it rained. Emil would bring him food and leave it on the bench next to his legs that were curled up under him, but it was left uneaten most of the time, excepting the few times when a sandwich was missing or an apple was gone from the fruit basket.

Of course, he knew that if he didn't bring him food, he would never eat at all, so Emil continued to bring him uneaten food like poptarts, fruit, or any sort of dinner that he'd managed to create that night, with some help of Mr. Puffin.

Mr. Puffin was a terrible cook; somehow they made it work. The Italian had been in his life for so long that Emil had forgotten what it was like without him, even though foggy memories of Lukas' cooking would surface from time to time.

A low level mob guy, Mr. Puffin was paid by Lukas to look after the Icelander. It had been years ago when they'd first made the contract, before Emil had turned even 10, but the man had been with them ever since. His real name was Tony Ricci, but he was called Mr. Puffin because of his resemblance to the bird, save for a red bowtie around his neck.

"Lukas, the phone rang. Mathias will be over in half an hour. Get dressed." Emil said, placing an already half-peeled orange into his hand. Apples were easier to give him, but he preferred oranges and would peel them himself if it was already started. He couldn't start them himself, and would only stare at it if it wasn't already started.

But today seemed to be one of the Norwegian's better days, because even though he put the orange down, he walked into the bathroom and Emil could hear the shower turn on a second or two later. The teen sat on the edge of the bed, running his fingers over the soft blanket that lay on top of it.

Emil was grateful that it was one of the better days. Often, when Mathias came over, Lukas was sitting at the window, (like he often did), and was mostly unresponsive, and Emil would watch as the Dane's smile slowly faded with the visit. But on the better days, (which the teen refused to admit to himself were becoming rarer), they would all be happy and it was like it was before.

Half of the time Lukas wouldn't even take his pills, and those were the worst days. Emil didn't know what to do on those days, so he just tried to watch over the Norwegian and make sure he didn't jump off a bridge.

A knock on the door interrupted Emil's thoughts; Mathias was here. The Icelander stood up and walked to answer it, opening the heavy apartment door to reveal an excited-looking Dane.

"Hi Emil!" He said, hugging the teen too tightly.

"Hey Mathias." The Icelander replied tiredly, looking over his shoulder when his older brother came out of the bedroom. Thankfully, he came out dressed in a pair of jeans and an old tee shirt that they'd bought when they went to New York City three years ago.

"Lukas!" Mathias hugged him tightly.

"Hello Mathias." The Norwegian said flatly, allowing himself to be hugged for a minute or two before pulling away and sitting down on the couch, starting to peel the rest of the orange. Mathias stared at him for a moment before turning to Emil.

"Where did he get the orange?"

"I handed it to him. He won't eat unless I remind him."

"You gave him his pills, right?"

"Sitting right here." Lukas cut in, watching the two of them converse from the couch. "Right here, listening to everything you're saying."

"Whatever."

They watched movies for what seemed like hours. Who picked the movie went in a circle around the couch. Mathias picked first, then Lukas, then Emil, and it went around and around like that for hours. The movies usually went comedy, horror, crime, but occasionally those would change.

Occasionally Mr. Puffin would come in for the movies, mostly the crime ones. Mathias made popcorn halfway through the first one, claiming that "no movie is good without popcorn". Emil fell asleep in the first few movies, but after he got a few hours of sleep, (for the first time in weeks) he was able to stay awake and watch the movies.

"This one is boring." Mathias complained.

"Too bad, I've been wanting to watch it." Emil said, throwing popcorn at the Dane. He pouted and threw it back, and suddenly they were in a popcorn war, with Lukas in the middle being the only one paying full attention to the movie.

"Shut up, I'm trying to watch." Lukas grumbled, trying to brush popcorn out of his hair.

"Oh, Lukas!" Mathias said, hugging the Norwegian tight. They stopped throwing popcorn and started watching the movie again, though again, the Dane was bored, and ended up asleep in Lukas' lap, with the blonde absentmindedly petting the sleeping man.

Emil watched them with a warm feeling in his chest, but he pretended to watch the movie, if only for his brother's sake, because he knew that Lukas would pretend this hadn't happened later.

For now, he could just pretend that it was like when he was little, Lukas could take care of himself, and Mathias lived with them. He could pretend that Mathias came more often than once a week and that Lukas would remember to take his pills and eat. He could pretend that they were

happy, and in a way, they were. Somehow.

And it was nice.


End file.
